


A Symphony in Three Movements

by Kirito_Potter



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Character Study, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Explicit Sexual Content, Hinata Hajime and Kamukura Izuru Share a Body Simultaneously, M/M, Riding, Spoilers, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29328021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirito_Potter/pseuds/Kirito_Potter
Summary: Izuru's thighs strain and flex as he moves in Komaeda's lap.Komaeda is staring up at him, watching his every movement like Izuru is explaining something very important.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 6
Kudos: 188





	A Symphony in Three Movements

**Author's Note:**

> Although the sex is explicit, not all of it is meant to be titillating because this was intended as a character study (of all three of them, really).  
> I know DID isn't an accurate diagnosis since Hajime didn't develop alters as a child but rather because of the experimentation done on him. If I write more in this vein, I'll likely mention that in Izuru's pov.  
> Also, since this deals with DID/headmates, there are descriptions of dissociation. If that might be difficult for you to read, here's your warning.

**I**

Izuru's thighs strain and flex as he moves in Komaeda's lap.

It's not particularly difficult, of course, considering he's an Ultimate in just about every sport and was given the strength to match, but any exercise can start to get tiring after enough repetitions.

Komaeda is staring up at him, watching his every movement like Izuru is explaining something very important. He's not wearing the collar right now, leaving his long, elegant neck exposed. (Izuru used to leave it on him, but lately he's been removing it before they have intercourse. He's grateful that Komaeda hasn't asked why, because he doesn't have an answer.)

Even though Izuru has no way to control him, with the collar and chain on the other side of the room and no restraints tying Komaeda to the bed, he stays obediently still, flat against the bed. Of course, he can't stay _perfectly_ still, his fingers barely shaking and his muscles tensing-- he's human, after all-- but he's doing his best.

When their hips meet, Izuru's hair pools on Komaeda's skin. When he pulls up, it slides across Izuru's own arms and chest like a lover's touch, making him shiver. For a moment, he considers what Komaeda's fingers would feel like on him, but he knows it'd be a little firmer, more desperate. He wouldn't have the patience for teasing Izuru after being denied for so long.

Izuru takes himself in hand, pumping slowly. He grunts softly without meaning to, which surprises him. Good.

His rhythm on Komaeda's length doesn't falter or pause as he pleasures himself.

Komaeda's eyes flick between Izuru's face and his hand. His cheeks are starting to darken, and his breathing is uneven. He's aroused, which is to be expected.

Izuru twists his grip as he reaches the tip, then slides his hand back down the shaft. Komaeda is the one to let out a shuddering sigh.

As Komaeda's pink tongue darts out to wet his lips, Izuru realizes that in three, two, one--

Komaeda bucks his hips involuntarily, up into Izuru. He moans breathily, but his expression is nervous and ashamed. He knows he wasn't supposed to move.

Izuru just presses his free hand to Komaeda's chest, as a gentle reminder. He can feel Komaeda's ribs under his palm.

Komaeda nods weakly. His length is twitching inside Izuru.

Using the hand on Komaeda's chest to steady himself, he shifts his weight and leans forward, rolling his hips now. The new angle fills him deeper, fuller, and it presses against his prostate more directly. He allows himself to groan.

Komaeda seems excited about this admission of pleasure, a strained smile spreading across his face. He's surely thinking, _I'm so glad I can be of service to someone like him._ Izuru knows he's thinking it without Komaeda having to say it out loud.

He moves slower, but with more force, grinding down against Komaeda's bony hips. He keeps working his wrist as well, watching the reddened head slide out from his tightly curled fingers before disappearing again. His breathing is growing ragged and deafening.

Finally, Izuru spills over his hand, shuddering to a stop. He has to close his eyes, letting the warmth of orgasm flood through him. His length twitches erratically in his grip, with seemingly no pattern. His heart beats fast and loud in his chest, a not-quite-syncopated rhythm that feels like something is slamming its fists against the insides of his ribs.

Utterly unpredictable.

Izuru opens his eyes, blinking a few times when he finds his eyelashes wet. He sees that ropes of come have landed on Komaeda's chest. He's so pale it practically blends in, despite how red his face is by now.

He lifts himself off of Komaeda's length. When he's able, he moves and sits on the edge of the bed. He looks back.

Komaeda is still watching him, bottom lip pulled into his mouth.

Izuru looks down at where Komaeda is still hard against his stomach. "You want to finish." It's not a question.

Komaeda quickly shakes his head, even though his hands shake with need. "It-- it's an honor that I'm allowed to even be inside you. Just that much is more than I deserve, but you give it to me anyways. For someone as worthless as me to ask to come after that is--"

"Stop," Izuru orders.

Komaeda's mouth snaps shut.

"You have my permission," Izuru says.

He lifts his head off the mattress without sitting up. "But I--"

"You call yourself worthless, yet you have the audacity to argue with me?" Izuru interrupts.

Komaeda swallows, dropping his head to the sheets again.

"What point is there in not letting you finish?" Izuru asks, though he knows a few answers. "Touch yourself. You have my permission."

He hesitates a moment longer. Then his hand flies up, grasping desperately at himself. He gasps as he starts to stroke, covering his face with his other hand. "Thank-- oh, thank you-- thank you!"

Only a few seconds later, his hips are lifting into the air, jerking and spasming. Komaeda's moans are loud, and drawn out, and borderline pornographic. He tries too hard.

Izuru isn't sure why he's still watching.

  
  


**II**

Hajime stares up at the window overlooking his bed as Nagito thrusts into him. The blinds are open slightly; not so much that anyone outside could see them, but enough that warm light and an ocean breeze float through.

"Ah-- you feel… incredible, Hinata," Nagito rasps.

Hajime turns his gaze back to Nagito's face. (The direct eye contact can get a bit much after too long.) "I told you to call me Hajime," he says.

"I couldn't," Nagito pants. "That's… hah... that's way too intimate."

"You are literally balls deep in me right now."

Nagito lets out a wheezing laugh, though it's thankfully much quieter than usual. "Maybe so."

Hajime rolls his eyes, shifting on the bed to wrap his legs tighter around Nagito's body. He reaches up and lightly grips the back of Nagito's neck, like a lifeline. Nagito hums softly at the touch.

"Your hands…" Nagito starts, but he cuts himself off with a whine, his hips jerking forward. He licks his dry lips and tries again. "Your hands are… sort of rough, Hinata."

"Ah, sorry," Hajime winces, pulling away.

"No, I like it," Nagito says softly.

Hajime smiles. "Oh. Okay." He settles his hand back in place.

Nagito is admittedly a little weird.

Okay, he's really weird.

But Hajime can get past that. There's a strange sort of chemistry between them, and eventually he decided it was easier to give in than to keep trying to ignore it.

It helps that Nagito is pretty hot. (Again, in a weird way.)

Part of him feels bad for thinking about sex at a time like this, but in their situation he can't be blamed for looking for stress relief, right? He's pretty sure they're not the only ones on the island who've gotten a little closer lately, so it's fine.

Pale hands are roaming up and down his sides. Nagito is always eager to touch him, anywhere and everywhere.

"Could you go a little faster?" Hajime asks, turning to rest his cheek on the pillow. He swears he can still feel Nagito's eyes boring holes into him.

"Hah, of course, Hinata," Nagito pants.

"Hajime," he corrects. "And you can just do it without agreeing out loud."

"Of course," he echoes.

Nagito's hips piston into him, quickly picking up speed. Hajime groans and closes his eyes, relishing in the drag of Nagito's cock against his walls.

"You know you have, like, a huge dick, right?" Hajime asks. He's sure he sounds like an idiot, but he's too drunk on pleasure to care. "I mean, it's not-- it's probably not that much bigger than average. But I wouldn't have expected it from you. Does that make sense?"

"You talk a lot, Hinata," Nagito murmurs.

Hajime snorts. "Look who's talking. I think you read me a soliloquy last time you fucked me."

"All I said was that your thighs are so big and strong, and your hair is the perfect length for running my hands through, and your waist is--"

"Wherefore art thou Romeo?" Hajime quips, shoulders shaking with laughter.

He peeks out of one eye, and Nagito's gaze is still trained on him, but it's softer now. His thrusts have slowed again.

"You have a nice laugh," Nagito breathes. "You should laugh more, Hinata."

"Hajime." He squeezes his legs tighter again, crossing his ankles on Nagito's back.

Nagito returns to the faster pace. His mouth hangs open, and his breath is hot on Hajime's ear.

Hajime reaches down between them with his free hand. Nagito's sweaty stomach is rubbing against him, but it's not enough friction, so Hajime takes the liberty of pumping his hand along the shaft of his dick, pressing his thumb into all his most sensitive spots.

"You look so gorgeous like that," Nagito groans.

Hajime turns his head to face him again. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"When you touch yourself," Nagito says reverently. "You get this look on your face. It's beautiful."

Hajime's dick jumps in his grip. "Don't… you can't just say things like that."

Nagito licks his lips again. Hajime wonders absently if they might be able to find any chapstick on this goddamn island. "Hinata, can I…"

"What?" Hajime asks when he doesn't finish the question.

"Nothing," Nagito says, shaking his head. His voice is wrecked, and it sends a spark down Hajime's spine. "It's nothing."

Hajime slides his hand up the back of Nagito's neck, curling his fingers into his hair. "You sure?"

Nagito smiles a little. "Yeah, it's alright. Don't worry about me."

He files that away to revisit later, when his impending orgasm doesn't depend on Nagito's mood.

Nagito's hands trail lower, tightly grabbing Hajime's hips to help him thrust harder and deeper.

Hajime groans, tipping his head back against the pillows. He's stroking faster without really meaning to. Every time the pleasure builds too high, he makes little aborted thrusts of his hips in pathetic attempts to meet Nagito's.

"Fuuck…"

Nagito moans in response.

"Holy fucking--" Hajime's voice cracks. "Nn… Nagito… I'm gonna--"

He chokes on his words as he comes, arching off the mattress and pressing their bodies even closer together. Nagito is shoving his face into Hajime's neck, and for some reason that only makes him come harder. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

Hajime lowers himself onto the bed with a cough, wiping his hand on his thigh.

Nagito pulls out with a dazed, desperate look in his eye. His hand is a blur on his cock. Hajime thinks he sees a little drool at the corner of his mouth.

"Haah-- Hi-- Hinata!"

For a few minutes, they rest, panting and sweaty.

Hajime is the one to push himself off the bed and search for the towel, running it under warm water in his cottage's bathroom. He wipes himself off, then returns to the bedroom. Nagito takes the towel from his hands and starts to clean himself as well.

"Do you… want to stay?" Hajime asks from his perch on the edge of the bed.

"Ah, another round?" Nagito asks as he wipes at his stomach, sounding like he's just had his vocal cords shredded. "You're insatiable, Hinata."

Hajime yelps, putting his hands up. "No, that's not what I meant! I just…" he shrugs awkwardly, dropping his hands to his thighs. "I didn't want to kick you out."

Nagito smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "That's okay. I know it must…" He seems to change his mind. "I have somewhere to be."

Nagito balls up the damp towel and pushes it into Hajime's hands. Hajime frowns, watching him gather his clothes off the floor. He stands to pull on his underwear.

"Let me go with you, then."

Nagito looks over, eyes wide. "Hinata?"

"Wherever it is you're off to. I'll go, okay? And after… I don't know. Maybe we can do something together. Go to the diner, or something."

His Adam's apple is so obvious against the white column of his throat when he swallows. "Well… if that would make you happy, Hinata."

He nods, offering Nagito a smile. "It would."

  
  


**III**

"Oh, fuck. Mm… Nagito--"

Nagito giggles, his eyelashes tickling Hajime's neck. "You're so loud, Hajime."

"Can hardly help it when you're fucking me this well," Hajime grunts, leaning forward and pressing their chests together in the process. "How are you-- ah-- so good at this?"

"Oh, I don't know about all that," Nagito hums, still running his fingers along the inside of Hajime's thigh. "I just know your erogenous zones. That's what happens when you've been fucking someone for a while."

Hajime shudders, using his grip on Nagito's hair to pull him into a messy kiss. Nagito moans, and whines, and grabs at his shoulders, and thrusts harder, because he's as hungry for Hajime's mouth as Hajime is for his dick.

At first, Hajime didn't know if he'd ever see Nagito again, and when Nagito finally woke up he was weak and delicate. All in all, Hajime had to wait _months_ for them to be able to do this again.

It was so worth the wait.

Hajime kneads at Nagito's ass, directing his thrusts. Nagito moans, eager to please, and soon Hajime has him nailing his prostate nearly every time. Hajime whines into his mouth.

Nagito's prosthetic leaves his shoulder, finding the hand Hajime doesn't have tangled in his hair. Nagito holds on tightly, his thumb rubbing at Hajime's palm.

Hajime laughs, squeezing his hand even though Nagito can't feel it.

Nagito's mouth slides down to his jawline, nibbling lightly. It makes Hajime's hips jump under him.

Nagito moves even lower. "I can feel your heartbeat," he laughs. "Here, pulsing in your throat. You're so alive, Hajime. It's amazing."

Hajime's vision swims, slightly hazy. He frowns.

Nagito is kissing him again all of a sudden, and Hajime doesn't know how that happened, but he just can't do it.

Hajime pulls back. Nagito tries to follow his lips, but Hajime mumbles, “Wait, wait.”

“Did I hurt you?” Nagito asks quickly, stopping completely.

“No,” Hajime says softly. “I’m okay. I just… need a minute. I’m feeling really switchy all of a sudden.”

“Of course. Take your time,” Nagito breathes, leaning back to give him space as Hajime lays against the pillows.

He closes his eyes with a sigh. His body feels like it’s floating right off the bed, but not in an enjoyable way. He presses the palms of his hands against his eyelids in hopes that the pain and the bursts of light will ground him.

Waves of static are washing over him, like he’s being held just under the surface of the sea. He tries to push past it, but they beat him back until he relaxes.

Slowly, the tide starts to calm down, the water levelling out and becoming perfectly still.

Izuru opens his eyes.

Komaeda is watching him, kneeling on the bed. They’re both naked. Komaeda’s penis is hard against his thigh, and it’s shining with what Izuru assumes must be a lubricant.

Izuru works his jaw for a moment, still adjusting to being in control of the body. When he can speak, he asks, “Were you and Hajime making love?” He never bothers with introductions.

Komaeda smiles crookedly, tilting his head endearingly to the side. “Yeah, I guess we were. Sorry.”

“There is no reason to apologize,” Izuru says. Then, “Would you like to continue?”

Komaeda blinks, sitting up straighter. He’s surprised, but not upset. “Oh, uh… would _you_?”

If Komaeda were anyone else, Izuru would probably say something like _If it doesn’t make you uncomfortable,_ because he knows people tend to appreciate empathy. But Komaeda is a special case, not because he doesn’t appreciate empathy but because he doesn’t let on when he wants something. So Izuru says, “Yes.”

Komaeda’s pupils dilate.

He shuffles closer, his metal hand reaching for Izuru. His grip is gentle but sure as he parts Izuru's legs.

"You're sure this is okay?" Komaeda asks, speaking in a hushed tone like someone might hear.

Izuru nods.

Komaeda sinks into him easily, which is a little jarring when Izuru has just woken up, but he knows it's because Komaeda had already been inside Hajime a few moments ago. His hands find their way to Izuru's hips, fingers splaying across his skin.

“Ah…” Komaeda starts, eyelids drooping. “Can I kiss you?”

Izuru draws in a sharp breath through his nose. Then he yanks Komaeda’s face closer and kisses him.

Komaeda moans into his mouth, pushing hard against his lips. He’s always so vocal, but never this forceful.

As Komaeda starts to move his hips, Izuru slides his hands over his cheeks. One of his hands makes its way up into his hair, pushing it out of his face. He uses his other hand to drag the backs of his fingernails against Komaeda's jawline. Komaeda shivers, but doesn't stop thrusting.

Izuru has never actually been under Komaeda, despite having taken his length dozens of times. He usually likes having control over the situation, but he's quickly finding that letting Komaeda set the pace is quite interesting.

Komaeda pulls away from the kiss, panting. A line of saliva connects his lips. "You feel so good," he gasps.

Izuru isn't sure what he's supposed to say to that.

Komaeda doesn't seem to mind the lack of a response. He does a fine job of filling the silence by himself, moaning and whining in that dramatic way of his.

"Hn… s-so tight…"

He hikes Izuru's hips up higher without hesitation, and the resulting angle makes both of them groan.

It's somewhat strange to consult previous data and find that it all contradicts what he's seeing now. Izuru knows, objectively, that Komaeda no longer remembers his time as a Remnant. But Izuru does, and this Komaeda is different. Most of his physical reactions are the same-- the breathy moans and his elevated heart rate (fluctuating between 140 BPM and 150 BPM in a noticeable pattern)-- but his demeanor is somewhat changed. He's still Komaeda, just unashamed.

His hands are restless. One moves to hold Izuru by the waist, while the other disappears between Izuru's legs. Izuru doesn't think much of it until Komaeda starts to draw shapes into the soft skin on the inside of Izuru's thigh.

"Oh," Izuru mumbles without thinking. "That…"

Komaeda glances up, eyes bright. "Yeah? Hajime likes it when I touch him here, so I thought it might be good for you, too."

He slowly nods. "It is."

The Komaeda from before couldn't bring himself to touch Izuru at all, even when he had permission. Now he's memorized exactly how to make this body sing with pleasure using just his fingers.

When he moves his hand away, Izuru almost considers asking him to put it back.

The hand on his waist squeezes lightly while Komaeda runs the other over Izuru's stomach. It's like he needs to touch every inch of Izuru's skin now that he's allowed to.

"Ah… I might not last," Komaeda pants. "Hajime and I were already-- you know."

"That's fine," Izuru nods.

Komaeda kisses him again, open-mouthed and wet. There's not much technique to speak of, but it's strangely magnetizing.

Komaeda's movements are getting faster, sloppier. Izuru places a hand on Komaeda's upper back, feeling how hard his heart is pounding.

Izuru pulls away from the kiss to catch his breath. He wants to roll his hips against Komaeda's, so he does.

Komaeda groans, head dipping until his forehead rests against Izuru’s collarbone. His thrusts are stuttering and out of time.

“Mm… I think--” Komaeda pants, “I think I’m gonna-- ah…”

Izuru raises the hand on Komaeda's back to card it through his curls. He shudders at the feeling of Izuru’s fingernails dragging against his scalp.

“Shit…"

He grabs feebly at Izuru’s hips and starts to pull out.

“What are you doing?” Izuru asks.

Komaeda lifts his head a little. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple, then his cheek, and hangs from his chin. “I’m gonna… gonna come…”

“And?” Izuru prompts.

He trembles like a leaf. “Gotta pull out. So I can…”

Izuru gently grasps his arm. “You’re wearing a condom, aren’t you?”

Komaeda flushes slightly, though it’s hard to tell when he’s already so pink in the face from exertion. “But… I can’t just...”

He makes a decision. “I want you to.”

Komaeda’s eyes widen. He licks his lips, then gently pushes back in. He groans and picks up his previous pace. His eyes are starting to glaze over, and Izuru has seen that look on him before, but never in bed.

He gasps, and his hips stop. His come is warm. With shaking lips, he moans, “Izuru…”

After a few moments, he seems to come back to himself. He moves to pull out again, and this time Izuru lets him. He seems a little flustered, but not too much. He pulls the condom off, tying the end into a knot and tossing it into the nearby trash can with ease. Then he looks back at Izuru.

“Did you…?” Komaeda asks softly.

Izuru shakes his head.

“Can I help?”

After a moment of consideration, Izuru says, “Alright.”

Komaeda shuffles closer, his softening length hanging between his legs. His hand is a little cold on Izuru’s shaft.

Komaeda presses his mouth against Izuru’s neck as he works. He isn’t sucking and biting, just sort of wetly kissing his skin.

Izuru finishes with a sigh, eyelids fluttering. His chest blooms with warmth. He can feel a few tears rolling down his cheeks.

Komaeda lays down so that his chest is against Izuru's arm, even though both of them are sweaty and covered in their own come. He presses his face into the space between Izuru’s neck and shoulder, his bushy hair tickling Izuru. He thinks Komaeda might be sniffing him. He doesn’t really mind.

He stares up at the ceiling of the cottage. Everything feels slow, and a little distorted, like he’s looking at everything through a fisheye lens. He takes a deep breath. It feels like it takes forever. He lets it out, and he thinks he might be sinking down, through the bed, into the floor.

Hajime blinks. Then he blinks again. Then, when he’s fully awake, he turns his head. Nagito is curled up against him. He’s smearing a little come against Hajime’s thigh.

“Aww, did I miss all the fun?” Hajime asks, smiling.

Nagito looks up, and his face is flushed so beautifully. His hair is disheveled, more than usual, but the light in here makes the edges of it seem to glow. “Hajime,” he breathes, awed, like Hajime is the godly one here.

“Hey,” Hajime chuckles. “Do I get a ‘welcome back to the front’ kiss?”

Nagito launches himself at him, attacking his mouth.

When they separate, Hajime reaches up to wipe sweat from Nagito’s hairline. “So… you had sex with Izuru, then?”

Nagito freezes. “Should… should I not have? He seemed okay with it, and I--”

“It’s okay,” Hajime says quickly, before he can begin to ramble. “I don’t really mind. I’m just surprised, I guess.”

“Oh.” Nagito chews on his bottom lip. “I was, too.”

He nods, thinking. “Was it… I don’t know. Weird?”

Nagito’s shoulders jump up to meet his ears. “Um… I mean, it was weird to have sex with someone else, especially since I know your body already. But I got used to it after a while.”

“No, I mean… was _he_ weird?”

Hajime can practically see the gears turning in his head. “No,” Nagito decides. “He was… nice. In his own way. And--” he stops himself.

“What?” Hajime asks, cupping Nagito’s cheek in his hand. “And what?”

“You’ll think it’s silly,” Nagito chuckles.

“I won’t laugh,” Hajime promises.

Nagito smiles. “It’s just, for a second there… I swear I got a sense of deja vu.”


End file.
